Lone Wolf
by windscryer
Summary: “Everyone has a price, Jules. I'm sorry." DED 1.
1. Part the First

Written for the Psychfic Ficathon '08. Prompt: catharsis.

Disclaimer: If I owned this you'd all be :ded: after watching this on screen. Sadly, I don't so you'll have to do with the pictures in your heads. :(

* * *

He dropped behind the broken and abandoned refrigerator, rifle held tight to his chest, and took a precious moment to wipe some of the sweat from his brow, valiantly ignoring the stench of the alley baking in the summer heat.

This needed to end soon. The adrenaline high was fading. Soon he would start making stupid mistakes. He'd be unable to stop himself, unable to win the battle of mind over matter.

He inhaled and exhaled a few times and then nodded. Time to go.

A quick peek around his cover showed no signs of movement. That meant less than he liked since it was unlikely they would be standing in the open.

How many were left?

He didn't know and trying to divine the answer would only waste time he didn't have.

Sucking in a deep breath and exhaling he rose, shifting to the balls of his feet.

_Come on, Lassiter,_ he chided when hesitation kept him where he was. _Odds aren't gonna get any better. Just GO!_

On the last word he moved, bolting from his sanctuary, his destination the half-cannibalized wreck of a truck. He zigged and zagged the twenty yards, shoulders tense under the unshakable feeling that he was being watched. The shot would come any second . . .

He made it into the shade behind the truck and was swamped with sweet relief, if only for a second.

He wasn't out of this yet, but he wasn't dead either. So far so good.

He was safe for a few moments. His quarry would have to move to be able to try for him again, especially since now he could slip around the corner without coming into the line of fire.

He needed to get back to the bank, he thought as he checked his ammo. Half-full mag in and one full spare after that. Not good, but hopefully enough. If he could get there then-

The sound of glass crunching underfoot froze his hands and snapped his eyes up.

He cursed silently yet vehemently and began a noiseless duck waddle towards the rear of the truck. Ridiculous he may have looked, but if it kept him from getting shot then he'd deal with the embarrassment.

He slipped around the corner and straightened, running for all he was worth towards the gaping doorway of a storefront. The front window had been smashed out and there were no signs of life but then he didn't really expect any. Riots had a way of chasing people off and according to the briefing it had been particularly chaotic and violent in this part of town.

He dashed inside and headed towards the back. If there was a rear entrance—and it wasn't blocked like the last one—he could cut five minutes off his journey.

He almost tripped over the leg sticking out of an aisle, but managed to hop it at the last second, spinning around as he danced to a stop.

It was Carelli. Two chest shots made it quite clear that he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

He cursed again.

Eager beaver rookie full of boundless enthusiasm . . . He'd paid the price for that enthusiasm it seemed.

_No time to think about it now,_ Lassiter reminded himself and turned back towards the rear of the store.

He located the door easily enough and found someone was smiling down on him. It was unlocked and unblocked.

Back up against the wall next to the door he gripped the handle and swallowed a mouthful of nervous saliva. He had no idea how many of the others were left. They could have easily surrounded him. He could have walked into a trap and now they were just waiting for him to try to leave so they could nail him.

He'd never see it coming.

Cursing his team for dying and himself for letting them, he threw caution to the wind and twisted the handle, throwing the door open and jerking his hand back.

No gunfire came and he dared to hope that he might have actually gotten lucky for once.

His radio crackled and his awareness zeroed in on it, blanking out the rest of the universe.

Let it be a friendly voice, he prayed. Let it-

"_Oh Caaaaarlyyy . . ."_

Another curse.

He'd thought—hoped desperately—that he'd managed to hit the younger man in their last encounter. Apparently he was wrong.

He wasn't going to be making it to the bank. He'd be lucky if he made it out the door three steps.

"_Carly, I know you can hear me. It's just you and me now. The rest of the team is gone."_

He shouldn't respond, he told himself as he looked to the ceiling, knuckles white where they gripped his weapon.

"_Don't worry. None of them suffered. None of them even knew what hit them. One quick shot and they were down."_

He shouldn't respond. He shouldn't respond. He shouldn't-

"_I can do the same for you, Lassie. Just step out that door and it'll all be over."_

He spit out a particularly colorful epithet, then clicked his radio. "How could you, Spencer?" he hissed.

A laugh came back. "_There you are! I was wondering how much longer you were going to ignore me."_

He was too cheery. He was enjoying this. He was _actually_ enjoying this. Son of a-

"Traitor," he bit out.

"_Oh ouch. Now really, Lassie, must we be reduced to calling each other names?_"

"You _betrayed_ us!" he shot back. "We _trusted_ you and you_ betrayed_ us!"

"_Betrayed is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of it as 'realigned my loyalties'."_

"Why?" Lassiter demanded. "Why would you do that?"

"_Why does anyone do such a thing? They made me a better offer._"

* * *

Don't adjust your screen. You read that right.

haz not yet begun to be evil :D


	2. Part the Second

"What? A Scooby Snack?" Lassiter sneered.

Shawn laughed. "_Not exactly._"

"Then what?"

"_Now, really, Lassie. Is that important?"_

Lassiter debated for half a second. "No, I guess not. I'd like to know, but either way it won't save you."

He could all but hear the grin in the younger man's voice.

"_You think you can take me, Lassie-face?_"

"I know I can."

"_How about we put that to the test?_"

"I'd love to."

"_In front of the Police Department. Five minutes._"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Oh that is so like you, Spencer. One of these days that need for drama is gonna get you killed."

"_Maybe,"_ Shawn agreed in amusement. "_But not today. Five minutes. See you there."_

Lassiter resettled his grip on his gun and then headed out, back through the front of the store.

He wasn't as cautious as he had been before because he knew that he'd make it to his destination this time.

The aforementioned obsession with dramatic flair wouldn't let Shawn take him out before then and from the sound of it they were the only two left.

"_Lassiter, do you read me?_"

He stopped cold in the middle of the street and turned a full circle.

"O'Hara?"

"_Oh thank goodness. I thought you were dead._"

"No. But I thought the same. Where are you?" It seemed they weren't the only two left . . .

"_South side by the gas station. Where are you?_"

"Not important." He started moving again at a jog. They just might be able to do this if he could get her in position. "How are you for ammo?"

"_Less than half a mag. You?_" Well not ideal, but if he managed this just right it would be more than enough.

"One and a half. Are you injured?"

"_Took a hit to the leg but I'll survive."_

"Good. Can you get to the station in the next-" He checked his watch. "-three minutes?"

"_Yeah. I think so."_

"Go in the back. Get up to the second level. Find a spot where you've got good coverage of the whole street, then get down and wait for my signal."

"_Okay. What's going on, Lassiter?_"

"Spencer turned on us," he explained grimly, ducking down a side street.

"_WHAT?_" she demanded.

"He sold us out," he spat.

"_Shawn wouldn't do that._"

"Your loyalty is admirable but misplaced. He already has. We're the only three left and right now I'm headed for a showdown at high noon with him."

"_But he-_"

"Save it, O'Hara. Deal with it when we survive."

There was a pause and he could almost picture her trying to rein in her emotions. Now of all times he wished that she wasn't so susceptible to the fake psychic's charms.

"Can I count on you?" he asked. He hated to ask this of her of all people, but he didn't have any other options. They were running out of time and he needed to know if this plan was going to work or not.

"_Yeah,_" she said, her voice cooled considerably. "_We're partners, Carlton. You can always count on me._"

"Atta girl," he muttered, then keyed his radio. "Good. I'll signal you when it's time. Radio silence until then."

"_Copy. O'Hara out._"

He paused at the corner of the building across the street from the station, edging out just far enough to see into the street.

No signs of life, but then Spencer wasn't an idiot.

And he'd gotten here a minute and a half early. He'd use that time to get ready.

He scanned the area, judging angles and playing with placement and maneuvering.

Yeah, this might work.

At exactly five minutes, his radio crackled.

"_Time's up, Lassie. You ready to die?_"

"I'm not going to die here, Spencer. You are."

"_The spirits don't agree with you._"

Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"_They also tell me that we're not alone._"

A chill ran down Lassiter's spine. Oh crap. Shawn was on their team. He had access to their team's private channel.

How had he _forgotten_ that?

He cursed just as a commotion at the front doors to the station drew his attention.

Shawn walked down the steps, dragging Juliet by the arm, his pistol trained on her side. She stumbled since her right leg was out of commission, but that didn't stop Shawn or slow him down.

"Come on out, Lassie!" Shawn yelled. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, letting Juliet go.

With her bum leg she was unable to remain standing and fell to her knees. The pistol sight settled on her back.

"COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!"

"You son of a-"

"There you are!" Shawn said as Lassiter made his appearance. He had an unholy grin on his face and no doubt his eyes were twinkling behind his mirrored shades.

"Lassie, I'm disappointed in you. You cheated."

"You lied," Lassiter shot back as he took up a position twenty feet away, his muzzle down but his muscles tensed to bring it up in a heartbeat. "You said everyone was dead."

"Of course I did. I didn't want Juliet involved. But you just _had_ to bring her in."

"I came of my own volition," she said, turning her head to scowl at him. "Shawn, how could you?"

He looked down and for a moment Lassiter thought he saw regret pass over the other man's face.

"Everyone has a price, Jules. I'm sorry."

"You are not, you traitorous-" She ended on a gasp as he pulled the trigger, hitting her square in the back.

There was a moment of silence then eyes and guns came up in a flash to meet head on.

"Well, Lassie, here we are. Just the two of us left."

Lassiter swore and one side of Shawn's lips curved up in amusement.

"Not what I'd want for my last words, but if that's all you've got . . ."

Lassiter pulled his trigger just a hair too late and swore again as he felt the impact of the round from Shawn's gun hit him in the chest.

He was pleased to see, however, that it hadn't taken his aim off that much.

At least he'd taken the traitor down with him.

Shawn laughed and touched his chest, his fingers glistening brightly as he rubbed them together.

Then his eyes came up to Lassiter's.

"I did it . . . for the lulz," he whispered, then fell back, hitting the ground with a thud.

Lassiter held on a moment longer, then fell to his knees.

He just wanted to sleep he thought as he lowered himself to the ground, laying his cheek on the pavement.

He closed his eyes.

All he wanted was to sleep.

* * *

Bonus points for anyone who recognizes the source of Shawn's famous last words. ;D


	3. Part the Third

"_Game over. Blue Team annihilated. Red Team wins."_

A smack of palm against pavement rang out and then Juliet's voice came soon after.

"Shawn! What was that? You shot me!"

There was a pained release of breath that was obviously Shawn being assaulted in some manner. Silently Lassiter cheered his partner on.

"I didn't want to, Jules," he protested. "Lassie gave me no choice when he dragged you into it."

And that was his cue to join in. Tired as he was, he wasn't taking the blame for this.

"Think again, Spencer," he said and opened his eyes, pushing up from the ground. "You're the one that turned on us."

Around them the rest of the dead and dying were reappearing as everyone headed back to the exit to turn in their gear and head to the pavilion where lunch was being cooked.

He had no idea how Shawn had convinced Karen and Chief Roberts to switch out their annual Fire/Police baseball game for a round of no-holds-barred paintball, but it appeared that everyone was pleased with the change. Though the firefighters were enjoying their victory a lot more than the cops were their defeat . . .

"Yeah," Juliet said, smacking Shawn's leg. He flinched and pulled it out of reach, standing up a moment later and offering her a hand.

"I told you, Jules, everyone has a price."

"Really," she said as she accepted the help. "What's yours?"

Shawn didn't answer immediately, his eyes searching Juliet's face.

"Shawn?" Her brow furrowed, her gaze going flat. "What did they offer you?"

"Um." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand until she slapped his shoulder.

"Spill. Now."

"Two box seats to the Dodgers/Marlins game."

Her eyes narrowed further.

"Dodgers and _Marlins_ you say?"

He grinned and nodded. "And a pair of dugout passes too. I thought that maybe since you like the Marlins so much-"

She grinned brilliantly, her whole face lighting up at the prospect. "I'd love to!"

His grin went nuclear in intensity, then dimmed to a nervous glow.

"So . . . my killing you to get them-"

"Don't worry about it, Shawn," she soothed, putting a hand on his chest and leaning in. "It's just a game."

His grin flared again. "Sweet. There's this great little hamburger place, Tommy's Original Hamburger, that has a killer Chili Burger-"

She nodded and then turned.

"Hey, Carlton, you like chili on your burger?"

He considered a second-and then stretched it out a moment more to savor the shock and dismay on Spencer's face.

"I've never tried it. But I'm game for a new experience."

She grinned. "Great! Me too! Thanks, Shawn!" she said, turning back. "You're the best." She patted his arm, then bent to pick up her gun and sling it over her shoulder.

"I saw you take out Envers and Brightside," she said, coming over to join him. "Nice work."

He shrugged and gave her a smile as he fell into step with her. "They weren't watching their backs. It was hardly a challenge."

"Oh don't be modest, Carlton. You nailed them and they never even saw you coming."

Shawn watched them walk away, still glued in place by what had just happened.

Gus came up, scowl etched firmly into his face.

"Shawn, what was that? You shot me!"

Shawn didn't look away from the departing duo.

"Dude, Jules is taking Lassie to the game instead of me!"

Gus frowned, followed his friend's gaze, then looked back.

"What? What game?"

"The Dodgers/Marlins game I got tickets to for helping the firefighters. She totally ditched me!"

Gus regarded his friend with an arched eyebrow. "You sold us out for a pair of baseball tickets?"

"With dugout passes, dude! _Dugout passes_!"

Gus snorted. "Gee," he said dryly. "I can't imagine why she wouldn't want to go with you."

The sarcasm penetrated Shawn's disbelief and he looked at Gus.

"You think she took it personally when I killed her?"

Gus rolled his eyes and started towards the exit.

"Is that a yes?" Shawn asked.

Gus just kept walking.

Shawn scrunched up his nose and considered, then shrugged and bent to pick up his gun. He straightened and checked it out, setting the safety, then recalled the way Jules looked in her fatigues and body armor and grinned.

"The day wasn't a total loss," he murmured, slipping the pistol into the thigh holster on his right side.

And there was always next year, he reminded himself. Besides, the game wasn't for another two weeks. That was plenty of time to grovel and charm her into rethinking who she wanted to take with her.

With that happy thought in mind he headed for the exit and lunch.

* * *

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS REAL, DIDN'T YOU? DIDN'T YOU?

ADMIT IT. YOU THOUGHT SHAWN HAD GONE EVIL LIKE ME.

Well this is the end of THIS story. There are, however, other endings to this tale out there. It's like CLUE!

:loves Tim Curry:


End file.
